


Things That Go Bump in the Night

by Delphi



Category: Harry Potter - Rowling
Genre: Bondage, Dirty Talk, Dubious Consent, First Time, Knifeplay, M/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-03-07
Updated: 2004-03-07
Packaged: 2017-10-05 16:07:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/43493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Delphi/pseuds/Delphi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Severus Snape has an unexpected visitor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Things That Go Bump in the Night

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Pornish Pixies community on LJ. Challenge: _Non-Con_

It was after midnight when the noise woke him, and that was unusual in itself because it had only been the ghost of a noise and Severus Snape was by nature a very sound sleeper. But then, the noise had been unusual too. Not because it was small, but because it wasn't supposed to be there. It was the third night of the Easter holiday, and Severus was the only seventh year Slytherin boy who hadn't gone home. The dormitory was empty.

Or it should have been.

Severus frowned, rolling over onto his back. He pulled the blankets up and listened to the faint chirrup of crickets outside. He was just beginning to think he'd imagined the whole thing when a second noise made him jump. It was the unmistakable sound of the dormitory door shutting, and on its heels came quiet footsteps and the low hiss of a lantern.

A burglar, was Severus's first stupid, sleep-addled thought, but he quickly dismissed it. It was difficult enough to leave Hogwarts grounds without permission, let alone get in uninvited. And yet, as he listened with growing anxiety to the heavy breathing drawing nearer and nearer to his bed, his childhood nightmares of strange men breaking into the house and creeping about while his family slept suddenly didn't seem quite so far away, nor so silly. Who could possibly be sneaking around the dormitory at this time of night? His head of house was gone for the holiday, and Severus had changed the password himself only hours earlier.

His heart began to race as the footsteps came right up next to his bed and then stopped. Severus lay with his eyes wide open in the pitch-black darkness. His wand was on his shelf, out of reach. His best course of action seemed to be keeping his breathing slow and steady, trying to feign sleep.

'Go away,' he willed. 'Just go away.'

But whoever it was didn't go away. There was a sharp clatter, like a tin lantern being set down on the night table, and Severus's breath caught in his chest. What happened next passed so quickly that the shout never made it past the first gurgle in his throat: the curtains burst open, a shadow darted forward, and before Severus could move, a hand had clamped down firmly over his mouth and something hard was pressing against his windpipe.

It was too cold to be a wand.

"If you even think of screaming," a voice whispered calmly, "I will slit your pretty throat right open."

Severus felt the point of the knife tap beneath one ear, then under the other, miming a deadly arc. He nodded very carefully, fearful of making any sudden movements.

He thought he heard a sigh. The hand left his mouth, and the mattress dipped as the shadow sat down on the bed beside him. A man, Severus realised. No fellow student, but a man, and only the light pressure of the blade at his throat kept him from recoiling in fright.

"Mm, what do we have here..." A fingertip traced Severus's lips, making him shiver despite himself. "...a Slytherin slut all by his lonesome? No one's bed to warm on the holidays?"

The voice made his stomach curl. It was cold and teasing, maddeningly familiar. But try as he might, Severus couldn't place the rough whisper, nor could he recall any voice at Hogwarts that could have frightened him so.

The bed shifted. Hot breath in his ear: "I've been watching you. The prim and proper prefect, strutting around like you're not the worst kind of cock-tease."

Severus held back a shudder as the knife began to move down his throat, the sharp tip of it scratching a line down to where his nightshirt began. It snagged on the collar for an instant, making Severus start, and then continued on over top of the material, down to the centre of his chest.

"But there's no-one to hide behind now, is there, my lad? No professors to protect you. None of your little fuck-mates."

Fingers joined the knife, rubbing in little circles, seeking out a nipple that was cruelly pinched upon discovery. Severus gasped.

"Now it's just you and I..."

The tip of the knife teased his nipple to hardness.

"...and we're going to have a little fun together."

In a flash the blade was back at his throat, the flat of it pressing down hard.

"Hands above your head."

Dizzy with fear, Severus found himself moving before the thought of disobeying even crossed his mind. His world seemed to have narrowed down to the chill of the blade against his skin. He was blind and deaf, unable to see even a hand's breadth in front of his face, the thundering of his own heartbeat all he could hear. He was keenly aware of his nightshirt riding up under the covers as his wrists were snatched up and pulled towards the headboard.

The knife left his throat barely an instant before he felt scratchy rope coil around his wrists like a noose. He found himself trussed up with three sure tugs, his elbows stuck up in the air. He pulled at his bonds and found them tight, his hands left with just enough room to touch the headboard or the top of the pillow but not much else.

The covers were pulled down and his nightshirt yanked up under his armpits, and then rough hands were suddenly everywhere, roving over his belly and chest. They pinched his thighs and squeezed his hips, pushing him down into the mattress when he tried to squirm away.

'Don't hurt me,' he wanted to plead, but the words stuck in his throat from more than pride. It was humiliating enough to think it—it seemed unbearably worse to say it out loud. Because he realised there was nothing he could do if the man said no.

'Oh God,' he thought helplessly, biting down hard on his tongue.

The hands slipped under his body, squeezing his arse hard enough to bruise, and to his horror, Severus felt his prick beginning to stir. Those hands were coarse but warm, and they were relentless, bullying his body into acknowledging them.

"Why do you do this to me?" the voice whispered wretchedly, and Severus nearly had the wind knocked out of him as he was swiftly straddled. "You make me so _hard_."

The mattress swayed as the man crept over him, knees nudging under Severus's arms and forcing his shoulders to strain inwards. Severus could smell him now, dusty and sour, could feel the heat rolling off of him. Something brushed against his lips, and he immediately clamped his mouth shut. It pushed again, more insistently, and Severus realised with revulsion that it was the man's prick. He shook his head violently, not daring to open his mouth even to protest.

"Little tease." The voice sounded almost fond, as though Severus were only playing.

The blunt head kept pushing at his lips, rubbing against his skin. A sudden slap across his face made him flinch, then blush with the realisation that it hadn't been the man's hand, but his prick. Another slap landed across his other cheek, painless but shaming.

"Smarten up," the man scolded, and he pinched Severus's nose shut, cutting off his airways with two strong fingers.

Severus struggled, tossing his head and desperately trying to buck the heavy weight off his chest, but the man held on tight, patiently suffocating him until his mouth opened on instinct to gulp in a lungful of air. The moment his lips parted, the fingers forced their way inside, prying his jaws open wide.

"Bite and I'll cut your balls off."

He felt his legs clamp together in a panic, his horrified gasp granting just enough time for the man to get his hands behind Severus's head and thrust himself right down his throat.

Severus gagged in shock, a rush of drool dribbling out of his mouth and tears springing to his eyes. His throat clenched, choking, and the man pulled back, but only a little. The man's prick felt enormous, stretching his jaw as far as it could go and twitching against his tongue like a snake. He clutched at the ropes holding him, trying futilely to pull himself away, but the hands cradling his head held him fast. The man groaned long and low, inching forward again, this time pushing himself against the inside of Severus's cheek.

A pair of heavy balls pressed up against his chin, and Severus struggled to breathe in through his nose as the thick prick began to thrust in and out of his mouth. It smelled salty and strange, and the overpowering scent of it nearly made him swoon.

"Suck," the man ordered hoarsely.

It was that or drown in his own drool. Severus tried the best he could with his mouth crammed so full, hollowing his cheeks and struggling to choke down some of the saliva that he suddenly seemed to be producing in abundance.

The man moaned from deep in his chest. He was still dressed, Severus dizzily noted, feeling the rough wool pressing into his sides, shirt cuffs brushing against his ears, the open trouser placket rubbing against his cheeks.

"That's it. Now give us a lick."

Severus awkwardly attempted to obey, his tongue squashed down at the bottom of his mouth. Maybe if he made it good, he thought, then the man would just shoot off and be done with him. He was unable to quell the thrill of fright that raced through his belly when he tried to imagine just what else the man had planned for him, concentrating instead on squirming his clumsy tongue back and forth as much as he had room to. He felt fingernails dig into his scalp.

"Oh...oh, that's it," the voice crooned. "Lick it like a lolly...just like that."

His mouth felt hot and numb, stretched and plundered. All he could do was lick and swallow and breathe and realise with disgusted disbelief that the painful tension in his loins was his own prick straining for attention, getting stiffer and stiffer with every slick thrust and coarse grunt. He shut his eyes and sucked harder to distract himself, feeling the prick in his mouth give a promising shudder.

"No you don't, laddi." The man pulled out suddenly, leaving Severus gasping and gaping.

Another fleshy slap landed across his cheek, leaving a thin, sticky strand on his lips. His tongue darted out to taste before he could stop himself—it was bitter and just a little sweet.

"Christ, but you've got a slutty mouth on you." The man sounded more amused than disdainful.

Severus flushed painfully as two fingers traced his lips and then pushed in. He closed his mouth before it could be closed for him, suckling softly. The fingers stroked his tongue, twisted around, and tickled his palate. It was strangely soothing, almost pleasant after the rough treatment his mouth had just been subjected to.

"Shall we see if the rest of you is just as slutty?"

Severus shivered helplessly, nearly crying out when the fingers left his mouth and the man climbed off him. His lips and chin were cold and wet with spit, his jaw aching so badly he didn't know if he'd ever be able to close it all the way. The cool air pressed down on his naked body, reminding him that he was utterly defenceless. He listened intently to the sound of the man's ragged breathing, following it along the shifting mattress as he moved down to settle at Severus's hip.

His legs were stroked, his hips, his waist. He bit his lip, willing his prick to go down, only to have it bob up even higher as big hands roughly pried his thighs apart.

Maybe he wouldn't notice, Severus hoped, prayed. No one in his right mind would be hard right now.

"Oh," the voice whispered with hushed astonishment, a moment before a warm hand closed unerringly around his prick. "You _are_ a sick little fuck."

He squeezed so hard that Severus moaned, shuddering. He could feel a drop of juice forcing its way out of the tip. To his humiliation, his hips bucked up off the mattress. He _was_ a sick fuck, wasn't he. He should have been struggling, fighting with everything he had, not pushing up into the cruel, disgusting hand that was now slapping his prick back and forth, making him whimper.

But he couldn't fight, he realised wretchedly as the cool kiss of the knife pressed against his belly, seemingly for no other reason than to remind Severus that it was still there. He couldn't fight back. His hands were bound, his wand out of reach. The shadowy man was big and strong, and Severus was only a boy, helpless and utterly at his mercy. His heart began to pound wildly, and he didn't even try to resist when his legs were bent so that his knees touched his chest, leaving him even more spread open and vulnerable. His prick, still painfully hard, slapped audibly against his stomach.

He stiffened as the flat of the knife inched along his thigh, slowly creeping down towards his balls. His breath stuttered in panic. Was the blade facing in or out?

"Oh God, don't," he whispered, feeling his balls try to crawl up into his body.

But the knife kept on moving until it touched the fragile skin of his sack, and Severus swallowed a sob, a long, fearful moment stretching out to the realisation that it was the dull side of the blade rubbing smoothly back and forth.

His entire body sagged, and he took a shuddering breath only to choke on it when he felt a wet finger rub between his cheeks. The knife was still pressed to his balls, daring him to even try to pull away.

"What do we say, hm? Is the rest of you just as eager?"

The finger pressed slowly into him, damp with spit but not wet enough and too big not to hurt. His muscles clamped down around it, making the man laugh low and dirty. He felt gooseflesh break out all over his body.

"What a hungry little cunt," the voice taunted. The finger wriggled until Severus squirmed. "I know just what will fill you up."

The finger pulled out slowly, and after a moment the knife was removed as well. There were little wet sounds, heavy breathing. Severus dug his nails into the ropes, trying to keep from trembling. Then a hand brushed against his thigh, and he felt a nudge at his hole, something blunt, bigger and harder than a finger.

Oh god—the knife handle, he realised, gasping as it slipped inside of him. A nauseating rush of terror curled his toes and made his prick flop like a fish on his belly. The smooth wood seemed to slide up inside him forever, wave after wave of the ridged grip moulding his insides, until he finally felt with relief the brush of warm fingers outside his entrance, stopping the knife from going any farther.

It was pulled out, then slowly thrust in again. A fingertip stroked the sensitive skin stretched around the wood.

A knowing whisper against his knee: "Likes sucking on that, don't it."

The handle slid back and forth, making Severus shift restlessly along with it, his prick thrusting up into empty air. Every few strokes, the flared end of the handle would begin to stretch him and he would stop breathing, knowing that the blade was only millimetres away.

"Please, no..." The words slipped out before he could catch them.

"Want more in you?"

Not trusting his voice, fearing a trap, Severus shook his head wildly, hoping it would at least be heard if not seen in the dark.

But all it earned him was a breathy chuckle. "Little liar. Greedy cunts like yours can't ever get enough."

The knife twisted inside him, the ridged grip scraping something that sent a shiver all through his body. He cried out before he could stop himself, the keening sound alarmingly loud in the wake of sighs and gasps.

"The question," the voice whispered, as though Severus hadn't made a sound, "is whether your hungry little hole is craving steel..."

The handle pressed in deeper.

"...or a nice fat cock."

"Not the knife!" He barely recognised his own voice, stretched thin with desperation, rattling around in his throat.

The warm reassurance of the fingers left him, and he realised with new horror that now nothing was keeping the knife in or out but his own muscles.

"Take it out," he whispered.

His only answer was an unpleasant jolt deep inside his body. It struck him dumb, the reverberation seeming to go straight to his teeth, hitting that secret spot along the way and making his prick feel like it had just been stroked from the inside. He fought not to squirm when it happened again, and a third time, and then it dawned on him that the clink he was hearing was the blade being flicked with a fingernail, sending a shivery echo all the way through him.

"Take it out, take it out—please, just take it out."

"We don't want the knife?"

Severus bit his lip as another flick sent a shudder through him. He shook his head tightly.

The handle was pulled out barely an inch, then gently pushed back. In and out. "You won't like making me wait."

Severus frowned, scrambling to puzzle out what the man wanted. The realisation made him blush hotly, his mouth freezing up.

"I...I want a cock?" he whispered. Saying it out loud made his skin crawl and his traitorous prick pulse.

The spit on the knife handle was drying, every little thrust of it coming harder now.

"Whose cock? Don't fancy a little whore like you'd be choosy."

He could feel the flare of the handle stretching him again, taking him precariously near the curve that would bring his tender skin down on sharp steel.

"Your cock," he moaned, his eyes prickling with humiliating tears that spilled over onto his cheeks.

For a long moment he lay petrified, his upper body trembling with the effort of keeping the rest of him perfectly still. Then he felt a pull, and the first ridge of the handle was sliding out of him. He let out a shudder of relief.

"Ask me pretty," the voice whispered. "Or it goes back in."

Severus felt like he was falling backwards, and when his voice came it was shrunken and distant and nothing at all like himself. "Please," he said. "Please fuck me."

A moment's silence, and then he sobbed as the handle was pulled out bit by bit. He was weeping in earnest now, tears trickling down into his ears. He felt incredibly small and helpless, too helpless to even tense as his legs were hoisted over the man's broad shoulders.

"Eager slut."

He whimpered at the first push, a broken sound that continued even when he realised that the man had slicked himself with something other than spit. If it had felt huge in his mouth, it was even bigger up inside him, slowly splitting him open.

"This what you get up to after lights out?" The whisper sounded ragged and strained now. "You let all your housemates have a go at you? Whore yourself out in the locker rooms, maybe? I bet the Quidditch team lines up just for the chance to pound your arse into the benches."

Severus moaned, pushing his head back into the pillow and baring his throat, surrendering himself to the invasion of his body, the invasion of his mind. A quick rhythm of strokes built up to the sound of slapping skin, brisk and unrelenting.

"This what made you a prefect? A suckjob for an E...an eager little arsehole for an O?"

The thrusts came harder and harder, jostling Severus with every stroke. The sounds of lustful breathing echoed in his ear, making his prick lurch pathetically towards release.

"Bend over for anything with a cock, wouldn't you?"

"Yes," he whispered, unable to stop himself.

"Dirty..."

"Oh, yes."

"Nothing but a whore."

"_Yes_." Something broke inside of him, and he knew it was true. He had to be a whore to be enjoying this, to revel in some strange man creeping into his bed and taking over his body, driving him to terrible pleasure and telling him all these filthy things.

He felt the pressure in his loins screwing itself to unbearable tension, and the orgasm he'd been fighting back all night came with a vengeance. He cried out, arching his back ecstatically as it ripped through him, and heard the man's harsh breaths turn to grunts as he began to drive into him with short, desperate strokes.

"My whore," the man groaned, slamming into Severus and staying there, giving a great shudder. "Oh, my sweet little whore..."

They stayed frozen like that for several heartbeats, and then Severus felt the prick inside him begin to slowly soften. His legs were eased down, and a heavy weight lowered itself onto him.

"Untie me?" he said faintly.

At first there was no reply. Then a sloppy wet kiss smeared across his collarbone, and he heard a soft snore.

Severus frowned. He landed a kick somewhere soft.

"Filch," he said, louder. "Untie me."

There was a grunt, and then Argus Filch was climbing off him. Severus heard something, likely the knife, hit the floor with a clatter. Deft hands slackened the rope and then rubbed his wrists.

"All right, Professor?"

Severus, on the pretext of stretching, immediately rolled to one side and hurriedly dried his eyes on the pillowcase. He wiped the semen off his stomach with a corner of the sheet before cracking open the bed curtains, letting in the lantern light. He stared for a moment in fascination at the thin scratches running down his chest and then pulled his nightshirt down over his body. Argus was already lying back again, his soft prick still sticking out of his trousers. His eyes were closed, but he was smiling an untrustworthy smile.

"My turn next week," he said smugly.

Severus rolled his eyes, curling up on his side and trying to savour the tender ache between his legs. Say what you wanted about Argus Filch, he was a consummate actor when the part suited him, and what the fates had spared the man in magical abilities, they had more than made up for with an endowment that would make a minotaur blush. But that was only worth so much.

"I will wear the collar," Severus said shortly, pulling the covers up over the both of them. He wasn't walking back to his rooms until he was certain his knees would hold him. "And I will wear the ears. God help me, I shall even put on the whiskers. But I am _not_ transfiguring myself a tail again—it took me three days to get rid of it last time."

He didn't need to look over to know that a disappointed expression had settled over the caretaker's face, nor to know how pathetic it was. He sighed. The terrible thing about having all of his sexual fantasies unquestioningly and perfectly fulfilled on a regular basis, he decided, was that it was making him entirely too soft.

"All right," he spat, after a moment's silence. "But _you_ will be the one to explain to the house-elves why a seventh year bed needs changing despite the fact that no Slytherins have stayed over for the holiday."

"Fair's fair," Argus muttered, sleepily patting Severus on the hip and nudging in closer on the narrow bed.

And all in all, Severus considered&amp;mdashis ears still echoing with sweet, filthy curses, his wrists raw and his arse aching—it rather was.


End file.
